Ensnared: An Alternate Ending to The Hunger Games
by OKBooey31
Summary: Title says it all. For those of us who like the boy with the snares better than the one with the bread. The characters belong to Susan Collins, not to me.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: The characters belong to Susan Collins. The plot belongs to me. I borrowed some passages from Mockingjay and I have put them in bold. This story is sort of an epilogue within an epilogue but it easily picks up where the final chapter leaves off. Enjoy!**

I wake early in the morning to discover I am alone in my bed. I check the clock. 6:30. Peeta must have headed to the bakery early this morning.

I swing my legs out into the cool morning air and make my way to the kitchen where I see that Peeta has left me a note. I sit at the table and Buttercup comes trotting over to me. He rubs himself against my legs, purring instead of hissing at me.

It's been nearly two years, but that amount of time has had no effect on my overwhelming emotions and nightmares. In fact, I'm convinced that I could live forever and my nightmares would never dissipate. It's the same for Peeta. For the most part, he manages pretty well. **There are still moments when he clutches the back of a chair and hangs on until the flashbacks are over.** In those moments, I am as helpless as I was when he was electrocuted in the Arena. I watch him and relive horrors of my own until I feel his arms around me.

There is nothing to trigger my fear but being alone in my house- where I swear that I can still hear Prim walking around laughing, talking to Buttercup, humming absentmindedly. Prim as she should have been. The cat still sitting at my feet. The sense of being hunted, not the hunter. Sometimes, even the faces of those in the book and Peeta, Haymitch, and I so caringly created.

Today, I don't know what does it, probably several different factors. But suddenly, I am filled with overwhelming dread, a need to get out. I rush back up the stairs and dress myself. I sling on my father's hunting coat. Before I can really register what I'm doing, I've written a note to Peeta and I am headed to the woods on this cloudy day.

I run to my old hunting rendezvous, where the old Katniss sits on the log, waiting for me. Once I'm there, she takes me by the hand and instantly calms my fears as she leads me deeper and deeper into the woods.

It's raining when I quietly make my way back to my house in the dark. I enter the Victor's Village. There is smoke coming from the chimney of Haymitch's brightly lit house. Mine is as dark as the night. I consider going over the Haymitch's until Peeta comes home. But I don't. I walk straight to my front door, propelled by some shred of courage I must have found in the woods. It's this shred of courage that convinces me to go face my fears.

I quietly enter my house where nothing seems amiss except for the feeling that I have acquired over years of hunting. I can only describe it as the quiet of the woods before a terrible storm or after a major predator-like a bear- has killed its prey. Complete silence. Eerie silence.

But I don't let it hinder me as I see that the note I left this morning has been untouched. Then I notice the bread. Two loaves sitting on the counter. I approach them.

"Greasy Sae?" I ask. No one answers. I look at the bread. Cheese loaves. Slightly burnt cheese loaves. "Peeta?"

"Right here," he whispers dangerously as a hand covers my nose and mouth.

I feel my eyes grow in alarm as I realize he is trying to kill me. Suddenly, I'm back in the Arena. A different Arena this time. One where he and I are forced to fight to the death. My survival instincts kick in and I feel flesh against my teeth. Then blood. Peeta lets go and I run, head to the door. Screaming for help, for Haymitch, for anybody to come to my rescue, as I run. Peeta grabs me from behind and spins me around to face him. His hands close around my throat.

"I gave you bread once. In the rain. My mother was screaming at you for looking through our trash bins. You distracted me and I burnt the bread. My mother hit me. She hit me because of you! Real or not real?" he demands.

I can't answer. All I do is try to fight as Peeta's hands tighten around my throat, strangling me.

"Real or not real?" he screams.

I don't know how long this goes on. All I know is that darkness was beginning to cloud my vision, so very welcoming. I am tempted to give in.

Until I hear a thud right above my left ear. Until Peeta's hands loosen the grip around my throat and I drop unceremoniously to the floor. I lay there and beg death to take me. Then there are footsteps.

"Don't you dare give up on me, sweetheart!" he growls.

I open my eyes. "Haymitch," I croak as he pushes hair out of my face. I reach for him, making sure he is real.

"I'm right here."

Then I begin to cry. My mentor just sits down and pulls me into his arms. He holds me there as I sob. I look over his shoulder and see Peeta laying on the ground in a pool of his own blood. A knife sticks out of his left shoulder, it has punctured his heart. I start to cry even harder.

At some point, Haymitch must have carried me back to his house because I wake up on his couch. I hear voices in the next room. I listen as Haymitch speaks. Greasy Sae responds. Then the unmistakable voice of Effie Trinket. They are talking about me, about what happened last night. I easily sneak into the kitchen.

Haymitch is standing at the sink with his back facing us. Effie stands nearby as if debating whether to approach him or not. Greasy Sae is sitting at the table, looking at her hands.

Putting my hand on the doorframe, I dare to speak. "Haymitch," my voice is barely a whisper. Effie and Greasy Sae look up, startled at my appearance. Haymitch doesn't move, does nothing to acknowledge my presence. I try again. "Haymitch, what happened?" even though I know the answer. I just feel the need to say something.

I have always known that Effie has always been sensitive but it takes me by surprise when she runs from the room in tears, muttering about "tragedy" and "star-crossed indeed". My hands instantly go to my throat where I can feel the tender skin. A tear falls down my cheek. Greasy Sae guides me to a chair and leaves quietly.

Haymitch finally turns around looking more disheveled than I have ever seen him. Tears are in his eyes. His liquor bottle in hand. I can see the answer- the one I already know- in his face. But that doesn't stop me from asking.

"Real or not real?"

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I had no choice." Haymitch turns away and throws his empty bottle. It shatters on the ground with my heart. He slides down to the floor and draws his knees up to his chest. I bury my head in my arms at the table. Both of us overcome by grief.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: As always, I don't own any characters, just the plot.**

I have moved into Haymitch's house. I don't think that I could live alone in mine anymore. I remain heartbroken and spend entire days laying in bed, too upset to move. Greasy Sae and Effie take watches on both Haymitch and I, even though he's handling things much better than I am. He come and sits with me sometimes.

I've forgiven him. How couldn't I? He saved me from Snow's wrath once and for all. I am grateful, I just can't show it and I don't think he expects me to. After all I've been through, losing Peeta is the final straw.

I hear someone come in my room. "Hey, sweetheart," Haymitch says gently. "I'm burying Peeta today. I understand if you don't think you can come but I know that it would the world to him if you do."

I peer up at him and nod me head. I haven't spoken since the morning after. Effie helps me dress and I put on my father's coat and dig through one of my drawers until I find the pearl and my mockingjay pin. Satisfied, I smile slightly at Effie and we go, arm in arm, to the place where Haymitch has dug Peeta's grave.

When we arrive, Haymitch looks at me questioningly and I nod at him, approving the grave sight. I even smile. I think that Peeta would to seeing as Haymitch has dug his grave on the woods side of where the old fence was; one last defiance to the old Capitol.

I cross the space to where his body lies and place the mockingjay pin above is heart. I put the pearl in his hand and close it tightly around the jewel. I kiss him, his cheeks, and then his lips. Haymitch lays a shroud over him before lowering the body into the grave.

After he's been buried, we just stand there, Greasy Sae, Effie, Haymitch, and I. Just the four of us, thinking of Peeta, crying. Finally I see the sun setting, the soft orange that was his favorite color. Effie tells us that we should go. I look at my feet and see on of the last dandelions. I pick and lay the flower on the fresh grave before taking Effie's hand. Haymitch drapes an arm around my shoulders.

Together, we walk back to his house.

It has been nearly two weeks. Maybe longer. I don't know. I don't care. I have stopped caring.

The others worry about me. I hear them talking in hushed voices long after I've supposedly gone to sleep. Effie sits with me from breakfast to dinner mindlessly talking about things I don't care about. Haymitch has take to sleeping in my room like he's concerned that I won't make it through the night. Sometimes I wish I wouldn't; I wish I would just let my nightmares consume me and drift peacefully from sleep to death. Haymitch is always there though, waking me so I'm away from the Arena, not reliving Prim's death.

I guess I owe Haymitch now, too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

It's midday when there's a knock on my bedroom door. Effie has me sitting in a hot bubble bath. It feels good, but not good enough to take my pain and misery away. Effie comes in and looks down at me. I see Haymitch leaning on the doorframe.

"He wants to talk to you, Katniss. Are you feeling up to it?" she asks gently in her funny Capitol accent. I nod and she walks out. I hear her high heels click against that floor and then down the stairs.

Haymitch sits on the toilet so he's facing me. I give him my best attempt at a smile.

"Hey, sweetheart. How are you holding up?"

I start to concentrate on the bubbles floating carelessly on top of the water as I feel the tears start to burn my eyes. I simply shrug.

"That well?" Haymitch says with a humorless laugh. He sighs. "I'm worried about you, sweetheart. We all are. I just want you to know that you're the daughter I always wanted but never had, Katniss," I look up at him and see tears in Haymitch's eyes. "I know I can't replace your father and I promise I won't try to. But if there is anything I can do, I mean anything, to make my Mockingjay sing again, I want you to tell me. Got it, sweetheart?"

I smile at him, expecting him to leave, but he just sits there.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry we couldn't save him like I promised. But I think that Peeta would be happy with what I did because it kept you alive. At least, I have to believe that…to keep myself alright." Then Haymitch breaks.

Unsure of what to do, I take his hand. "I forgive you. I forgave you as soon as I realized what happened, Haymitch," the sound of my voice startles both of us. "I think Peeta is happier where he isn't suffering from all the horrors we've been through, all of his nightmares. In a way, I think we did save him. I just wish I could be free of them too," I finish in a whisper. We sit in silence for a what feels like forever.

"What can I do? How can I help you be free?"

Now it is my turn to break. "I don't know!" I sob. "I don't have anyone. No one besides you, Effie, and Greasy Sae cared enough to come back with me. I'm so alone, Haymitch. I feel trapped, like I'm stuck underground and no one cares enough to dig me up."

Several more days pass. I feel the figurative dirt continue to pile on top of me. Haymitch and Effie have spent several hours on the phone, leaving me to either my own devices or in Greasy Sae's company. Haymitch still stays with me at night. He holds my hand while I sleep, helping me fight my demons. I'm grateful to him in a way that I never imagined myself to be. There aren't words enough to express it.

Today, everybody has left me on my own for a while. Greasy Sae went to her restaurant to do some work. I don't know where Effie and Haymitch have gone. I'm sitting in a chair by my window. I look out towards the woods. How I desperately wish I could go out, find the old Katniss and follow her through the trees. Gale would be chasing us to check his snares. My thoughts have been on my childhood companion lately. Does he know what happened? Does he even care now that he has probably found other lips to kiss?

"Who am I kidding? He stopped caring about me when I accused his bomb of Prim's death," I say aloud, tears escaping my eyelids.

"Says who?" a voice challenges.

I turn me head and there he is, standing in the door. He's just as I remember the old Gale, the Gale before my Games. I jump up and run to him. He catches me, wrapping his strong arms around me tightly as I sob into his chest.

"Hey Catnip," he whispers as he strokes my hair and murmurs words of comfort in my ears. I feel him kiss my head.

That night, as I fall asleep in Gale's strong familiar arms, I feel okay. Not better, but okay. Its as if I'm whole again, or at least on the way to being whole again. All I know for certain is that Gale is here. He still cares.

And I know that he'll take care of me.


	4. Epilogue

**Disclaimers: Still don't own it. Bolded passages have been taken straight from the text.**

They play in the woods. By the lake with the old cement house. The twin girls, running hand in hand. One with pale skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes. The other with olive skin, brown hair and grey eyes. Rosie and Rue.

Another ugly cat runs after them. Cotton.

A two-year-old **boy with blonde curls and gray eyes, struggling to keep up on his chubby toddler legs.** Mitch.

I chase the three of them on my quiet hunter's feet with laughter and song. I pause to catch my breath and my hand rubs my abdomen where my fourth, unborn child grows. Another boy this time. I can feel it.

I smile, fondly thinking of my fear, how I didn't want children because of the world I grew up in. Gale changed my mind when we held our newborn daughters. Then, to Gale's delight, I wanted more. I was no longer afraid. Having children was a last "in your face" to the long dead Capitol and its despicable Hunger Games.

I hear soft footfalls that anyone but me would miss as Gale wraps his arms around me. I smile up at him and he kisses my head. Gale made me okay. He took my hand and never let it go through all the turmoil I experienced in the aftermath. He helped Haymitch and I add Peeta to our leather bound book. Slowly, one by one, he helped me face my fears. My nightmares are still with me, but not as frequent or as strong.

But when they are strong, **it feels impossible to take pleasure in anything because I'm afraid it could be taken away. That's when I make a list in my head of every act of goodness I've seen someone do. It's like a game-** like "Real or not real". ** Repetitive. Even a little tedious **given everything that I've been through, but not impossible.

And that's what I plan to tell my children when the time comes. When I have to relive my horrors, but I know I can do it. Over the years, I've learned that impossible is nothing. I started learning that lesson early on with Gale and now I've come full circle. Besides, it will make all of us stronger by learning from my past.

I take my husband's hand and we follow our three beautiful children to the edge of the lake and have our picnic. Afterwards, the five of us lounge on the bank in the sunshine, Mitch asleep in my arms, identifying the different birdcalls.

"Mommy," Rue says, sitting up from where she lays on the far side of Gale. "I want to hear the mockingjays."

"Yes!" Rosie squeals from beside me. "Sing, Mommy, sing!"

Even Gale joins the begging. I smile at all of them.

"_**Deep in the meadow, under the willow**_

_**A bed of grass, a soft green pillow**_

_**Lay down your head and close your sleepy eyes**_

_**And when again they open, the sun will rise**_

_**Here it is safe, here it is warm**_

_**Here the daisies guard you from every harm**_

_**Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true**_

_**Here is the place where I love you"**_

At the end of my song, the woods are silent. Then, one by one, the mockingjays fill the air with the sweet melody. And in that moment as I look at the wonder-filled faces of **my children, who take the words of this song for granted**, I know that I've done the right things.


End file.
